


Evening Sun

by wingless



Category: Free!
Genre: Cooking Haru, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Free! Kink Meme, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Missionary Position, Post-Canon, Sap Sap Sap, Sassmaster Makoto, so much sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingless/pseuds/wingless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for kink meme prompt: "Set after episode 13. Established relationship. Haru invites Makoto over to his place for a homemade meal. Then they have sweet missionary position sex on the "living room" floor, with Haru on top. Bonus points if they keep most of their clothes on to avoid carpet burn. Extra bonus points for Haru being in a super sweet mood and kissing Makoto all over and Makoto just giggling and being the happiest man in the world."</p><p>One evening of many in Makoto and Haru's new life in Tokyo together. In which Haru is far too blunt about some things and lives up to his original nickname of Tsun-kun about others, Makoto's mindreading game is strong as ever and he gets in a little bit of trolling action, and both of them are gross and in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evening Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this lovely prompt](http://iwatobiswimclub.dreamwidth.org/2701.html?thread=3641997#cmt3641997) and I was still and still am so overwhelmed and emotional about episode 13 and how my darlings got their happy ending in Tokyo together and then I just had to write this. I say this, even though I still kind of can't believe I actually did. Um, I have absolutely no idea how to write porn even though this is technically my second time doing it, and my first time writing something quite... as explicit... so that's how this ended up only being around 30% porn, around 70% fluff, 0% plot and 100% disgustingly mushy and corny and cheesy sap. But the great thing about this pairing is that this kind of sap is totally in-character for them and that writing for them allow me to release my own inner sap. This is me this is who I really am.

Their new life in the city made routine much harder to maintain.

Life in Tokyo was incredibly fast and erratic and unpredictable and it took far more energy out of them both to maintain. More than that, what made it so easy to maintain routine in their hometown was the familiarity that came with Makoto and Haru having lived in it their entire lives. Life in Iwatobi was like a house of which they explored every nook and cranny and knew like the back of their own hands. Tokyo was entirely new and unfamiliar and they were still getting to know it—in has only been a little over a month since they moved in, and they had barely scratched the surface of figuring out the new world they lived in and their new lives. Both of them had their very different studies to manage, and far too much that was unreliable, inconsistent and entirely out of their control to have any sort of proper routine. Makoto and Haru had learned this after unconsciously trying to establish one several times and being forced to break it at least once every time.

So Haru had no problem with Makoto no longer being the one to pull him out of the bath every morning; they were a train ride away from each other and his own practice demanded he get up far too early for them to travel together. The need to live close to where they go to study was the largest factor in deciding where to live, and both of them agreed that their studies were first priority. They didn’t see each other every day anymore, but they make sure to call one another at least once a day and failing that they never went a day without exchanging text messages about whatever topic was on hand. Haru would never tell him, but sometimes before bed he’d check his phone and simply read the texts Makoto sent him that day and sometimes the day before. Even if he knew them by heart, going over them again would have him falling asleep in a good mood and feeling optimistic about the following day.

But a week wouldn’t pass by without them seeing each other face to face, even if it was for a brief time. The city was big and their schedules often inflexible and constantly changing at the last moment, but they wouldn’t let that stop them. Haru wouldn’t let it stop him. So they squeezed out as much time for each other as they could. Haru was as determined to make sure of that as he was about his training. In the end they established something fairly close to a routine, one that amounted to seeing each other face to face at least once a week and keeping contact by phone—it wasn’t quite as fixed and steadfast as both of them would like, but it was the best they could do. For now, it was enough. Haru was sure they will be able to come up with something better eventually.

Routine was something both of them found comforting, that they always needed to have in their lives. And now, when things have changed and their lives have changed so rapidly within such short notice, was when they needed it more than ever. Whenever they were suddenly feeling overwhelmed by it all, the presence of some things that just always stayed the same and survived through all this passing of time was a comfort, an anchor.

The only problem Haru had was how little they got to come over to each other's homes. Not just because it was something they just really liked doing. Not just because the introduction of a new element to their relationship coincided with their new lifestyle and made their chances for consummating their new relationship few and far between. But because both of them, in a rare moment of carelessness, completely forgot the only problem that came with Makoto living on his own, and that problem was proper eating. Makoto reprimanded Haru at first when Haru accused him of it, and responded that it was unfair of Haru, the one that had a diet consisting mostly of mackerel, to be saying things like that. But there was absolutely a difference between eating good, healthy, well cooked, delicious food made from the best ingredients he could find on his budget that just happened to all have a lot in common and living on the kind of cheap, tasteless junk that Makoto’s helplessness in the kitchen stuck him with.

It’s why Haru so often had them meet in (affordable) restaurants and other places to buy food whenever they met up, in spite of his own tight budget. The moment he realized how low the chances of Makoto having a decent diet are, he was determined to make sure Makoto was eating properly whenever he had the chance. And yet, there were so many times that it was out of his control that Haru was starting to worry. All the more so when Makoto admitted, very reluctantly, after the most intense interrogation that Haru could manage (which was nothing compared to what Makoto was capable of, but he had to do his best) that Haru’s worries were not entirely baseless and that he “has run into a bit of trouble on the subject of food”.

After a series of mental images involving Makoto living on ramen, pizza and cheap, crappy take out, Haru had sat down and thought seriously for a while about how to fix this. It was going to take a while, but he decided he might as well start by giving him some decent food directly. He could discuss what to do on the long term once Makoto has finally gotten some decent food to at least make up a little for the past month. And it gave him an excuse to have Makoto come over and stay the night with him, and they could see each other for a bit longer than usual again, and Haru always liked cooking for Makoto.

And then, maybe, Haru could finally get laid again in two weeks. That would be a nice bonus. Haru was not sure when did he suddenly become a horny teenager, because he certainly wasn’t during the age when you’re apparently actually supposed to be a horny teenager, but apparently he’s a late bloomer and getting into a relationship with Makoto seemed to have suddenly unlocked something he never thought was there.

But since just suddenly springing it on someone like Makoto, who was still very sheepish about the topic and who got embarrassed and timid very easily, might be just a bit too much, Haru thought it might be good to ask him beforehand. So a few days before their arranged date, as they were talking on the phone about an entirely unrelated subject, Haru had said:

“Makoto. By the way, when you come over this weekend…”

“Yes?”

“I would like to have sex with you after we eat.”

Haru wondered if Makoto was drinking something when they were on the phone and if he suddenly spit it out, because that’s what it sounded like it from the noises he was making. Patiently, he waited for Makoto’s coughing to stop. Once he did, he asked again, “Do you want to?”

“Y-y-yes! Yes, um, okay, sure, t-that would be fine!” Makoto said in an unusually hysterical voice.

“Bring something comfortable to wear. You’ll be staying the night.”

“I know, I k-know! Y-you already told me!”

Haru paused. “Makoto?”

“I’m fine! Sorry, you just… that caught me off guard a bit…”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Of course I’m embarrassed! I don’t understand how you can ask something like that so- so- so directly _without_ getting embarrassed!”

“I just say it like it is. If I beat around the bush, you wouldn’t understand and think I was talking about something else completely.”

This time Makoto paused. Then he laughed sheepishly, but with honest amusement. “Alright, fine, that’s true.”

—

Haru was still busy in the kitchen when he heard Makoto’s knock. He would have answered the door if cooking hadn’t kept him occupied, and he was unwilling to risk abandoning the kitchen if even for a moment. He waited for the telltale sound of Makoto calling out “I’m coming in, Haru!” and sure enough, it came, followed by Makoto himself, looking worried.

“Haru! I can’t believe you still leave your door unlo—woah, that smells delicious! Wow, you really prepared a lot of food, didn’t you? Wait, how are we going to eat all that? Is there enough room for that on your table—I mean,” Makoto shook his head, “Like I was saying, why do you still keep your front door unlocked? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“It’s only unlocked when I know you’re coming.”

“What? You keep it unlocked just for me? Haru… wait, hold on, no, that’s still dangerous! Someone could sneak in during that time! What if you get robbed? What if someone takes advantage of it and ambushes you? What is if it’s a murderer? A terrorist? A door to door salesman? A paparazzi? A murdering paparazzi terrorist pretending to be a door to door salesman? And what if it’s when you’re in the bath? That would be really awkward- I mean, how would you be able to fight any of these people off?”

“Stop fussing.”

“Haru! I’m serious!”

“I’m busy cooking your meal.”

“Can you promise me you’ll leave it unlocked for a shorter amount of time, at least?”

“How are you going to check whether I do it?”

“Because if you promise to me you’ll do it, you definitely will, and I’m going to ask you about it next time.”

“And what if I lie?”

“If you try to do that,” Makoto said, with the slightest hint of a slyness in his voice, “I’ll know.”

Haru sighed, “Fine. I promise.”

“Good.” Makoto smiled, satisfied, and only then actually entered the house properly. Haru quietly thought to himself that while Makoto may have been fussing, and his speculation about the murdering paparazzi terrorist in disguise as a door to door salesman was a little out there, he did make a good broader point. Locking the door, even if it meant going through the effort of actually opening it for Makoto probably couldn’t hurt.

“Dinner’s going to be ready for a moment. And yes, “Haru added before Makoto could repeat his earlier statement, practically hearing Makoto opening his mouth as he was about to do just that, “It can fit on my table, and if we eat together, we can eat all of it. What we don’t finish, you can take with you tomorrow. You could probably use it.”

Makoto laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m going to change into more comfortable clothes. Can I use your bedroom?”

“Sure.”

He came out of Haru’s bedroom a few minutes later, audibly yawning. “Man, I’m really tired. Your invitation really came just on time, Haru. I could use a good meal.”

“I know. That’s why I did this. You’re going to have to wait, though. I’m still not finished with everything.”

“For your cooking, Haru, I can wait as long as necessary!” Makoto said in such a completely unabashed and chipper tone that Haru couldn’t help but automatically to duck his head and try to focus as much as he could on the meal he was currently occupied with to try distract himself with the slightest hint of warmth he was feeling in his cheeks. “I’m going to wait for you at the table. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll be done soon.” Haru said in what was closer to a mumble. _And he says I embarrass him_.

Around fifteen minutes later they were sitting down and finally eating, after Haru had set the table up, taking it on himself in spite of Makoto’s insistence on helping (“You’re the guest here, so shut up and eat.”) and they said their graces. Makoto had devoured it with a speed and enthusiasm that told all it needed to about his current diet to Haru, and when he caught Haru staring at him, paused and laughed in embarrassment. “Your cooking is really good, Haru!”

But it was strangely nice. Very, very nice, actually. Even if he should have been more occupied worrying for Makoto’s diet, there was something about watching Makoto eat what he cooked for him with such enthusiasm that lit his entire heart up. Haru’s mind went back to something his grandmother said once, about how there’s nothing like cooking for someone you love and watching them eat what you made for them. Looks like she was right, as she often was, because his insides felt so warm and as light as a feather, as if the sun itself was shining inside him. And it’s been so long since they’ve been alone together at home, and it felt so long since he saw him face to face and Haru could barely concentrate on his food. He couldn’t even look at it. There was nothing he wanted to do right now more than to simply look at continue looking at Makoto, to take in the sight of him and milk all the time they had this evening together to see as much of Makoto as possible.

At that moment, Haru felt like if he could, he would be perfectly willing to sit still for several hours doing nothing but staring at Makoto, watching and taking in every single facet and aspect of him, every gesture and motion, every shift in his face and tiniest micro-expression, and he wanted to commit each one to memory, and oh geez why did he always start thinking like that when Makoto was around? And that feeling like his insides were melting into fluff and like light was spreading through every vein in his body instead of blood was all kinds of wonderful and then he stared at Makoto’s face and his smile and felt like the light that shone out of it was spreading and that Haru was catching it and absorbing it into himself and what the hell this is really embarrassing he couldn't believe he was actually thinking that.

Then Makoto noticed him staring again, but this time he smiled at him back, and Haru was suddenly so overwhelmed by that smile that he had to look away.

Makoto was always smiling; that in itself was not unusual. But sometimes he smiled in a certain way, sometimes he got that look, smiled a way that suddenly felt like a real, honest to god _smile_ that came out of sincere happiness and joy and his face just lit up and Haru felt like his entire heart was bursting. Sometimes looking at that smile was too much and it was so overwhelming and full of light like it was the sun itself and Haru just had to look away, stealing glances from the corner of his eye and trying to calm down this sudden intense relentless beating of his heart.

This was one of those times.

“By the way, Haru,” Makoto said after another bite, “I notice you moved your boxes to your bedroom.”

Was he trying to change the subject so Haru could calm down? Haru was expecting a bit of light teasing instead. He turned back to look at Makoto. “To clear up space here. It’s already pretty small. The boxes were making it even more cramped.”

“But it’s been over a month! Why haven’t you unpacked them yet?”

“I’ll do it eventually.” Haru ignored him and started to concentrate on his food.

“Haru…”

“I told you to stop fussing.”

“But doesn’t your bedroom feel cramped now instead?”

“The bedroom is meant for sleeping it. And they’re on the floor, not on the bed.”

“But you’ve had enough time to unpack by now, surely! You’ve even started and opened one of them, but it’s still nearly full! What happened?”

“Nothing. I’ll just do it later.”

“Haru.” Makoto said, his tone a bit firmer this time. “Look at me.”

Haru looked up from his food to find Makoto with his head just a little bowed down and his head wearing his first serious look, with that small frown that indicated it was time for a reprimand. It was a very cute expression. It was clearly made with an effort to look serious and intimidating, but its only effect really came from the rarity of seeing such a serious look on Makoto. For Haru, at whom such an expression was very often directed and for whom the novelty has long since faded, there was not even that.

Haru thought of it as stage one of Makoto’s Mom Look. When evolved into stage two, it would be just a fair bit more serious, and a hint of disappointment would be added. That was when things started to really get bad, and a far more effective expression when Makoto needed to reprimand someone. It was not an expression you wanted to evoke, not because it was particularly intimidating, but because Makoto and disappointment was not a combination that many were capable of dealing with. This was the expression that, according to Rin, he was met with on the day of the tournaments in their second year, when he won against Haru and was so fired up he went a little overboard celebrating his victory.

Both of these expressions were far preferable to the expressions Makoto wore when he tried to be intimidating, and succeeded. That Makoto was not very good at honestly being intimidating, and even when he succeeded, could not keep it up for long, was only for the greater good of both the people around them and the world in general. Haru could personally vouch for that. He witnessed that rare sight a few times. It was never aimed at him, and he only ever saw it from the side. And that he still very much did not want to see it again said all that needed to be.

Thankfully, Makoto’s expression right now was neither his intimidating look, nor his disappointing look. It was only the more common, average, cute and slightly pouty Makoto’s Mom Look, Stage One: “Look Me In The Eye When I’m Talking To You, Young Man”.

“Haru, I am not going to unpack your things for you no matter how long you keep them lying around unpacked without even touching them.”

Haru did not say a word, and instead looked Makoto straight into the eye as he continued to chew. He did, however, push one of the dishes towards Makoto’s direction. It did not work. Makoto sighed, “No, not even if you bribe me with green curry.”

“Not even for green curry I made, especially for you?” Haru said, having finally swallowed.

“Well,” Makoto laughed, “it certainly makes you more persuasive, but no means no.”

To that, Haru shrugged and kept on eating. He stared at Makoto, who stared right back with that same look on him still. To react in any other way would be like admitting defeat. Against Makoto, the best strategy was to be like the ground rather than like water. Be stubborn enough, and he’ll just sigh at you and let it go. You wouldn’t win the war, but you’d at least win the battle.

And Haru understood that his possible may-not-actually-existing secret hope that Makoto will eventually get tired of seeing his unpacked things every time he came to visit and unpack them himself, or at least come take action that will force Haru to start unpacking and he wouldn’t have to take the initiative to himself, was now entirely dashed; that is to say, that he pretty much lost the war, but he’ll be damned if he’d admit any of it, or give any other indication of having any such hope in the first place. If Haru was going to go down, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

And so Makoto, just as according to his predictions, did sigh a sigh that expressed ‘god, you’re hopeless’ without any need of words, and resume his meal, indicating this topic conversation was over and they have reached a stalemate, more or less, on this subject. But then Makoto said, “By the way, Haru, if you need help with the unpacking, I’ll lend you a hand.” And just as the idea has only begun to form in Haru’s mind, Makoto took a bite and added, “And don’t you even try to trick me into doing it all for you under the pretense of me helping out. I will notice.”

Yes, indeed, in the end, Haru considered that war lost, but decided to accept his defeat with grace. Losing to Makoto isn’t so bad, anyway.

In the end, there were some leftovers that the two of them packed together for Makoto take with him next morning after all. Haru had to watch his nutrition with much more care than when they were in high school and he had to keep a lid on how much he ate during dinner, and he thought it would be better for Makoto to keep some decent food with him rather to eat it all in one go.

Makoto was grateful, and noted, as the two of them washed the dishes, with pleased surprise, that Haru had become much more dependable and organized. Haru glared at him and Makoto laughed, but his face softened and he said, “But really, Haru, thank you so much. It was very kind of you to do this for me. I wish I could repay you…”

At that Haru glared at him even harder. “This _is_ repayment.”

“Huh?”

“For you always taking care of me.” Haru stared at the dishes he was busy doing. Bad idea. They were pretty gross looking when still unclean. Somewhere at the back of his mind he could hear Rei reeling in disgust, and agreed with him. And anyway, the counter with the sink was far too tiny and did nothing to help the fact that Makoto was standing right there next to him and smiling at him.

“Hmm, you know, I just thought it was unusually of you to take care of someone like that. But—“

“I wanted to do it anyway.”

“ _Really_?”

“Yeah.” _Because I want to take care of you and I like doing it. Because I care about you, stupid._ Haru thought and really felt like saying. It came out as: “You think I was going to let you starve?”

“I wasn’t starving!”

“Whatever. Just take this and don’t try to repay me. Alright?”

“Okay, okay, fine. I won’t make a big deal about it, if you really don’t want me to.”

Haru hadn’t said that, but he was just about to. The two of them continued washing dishes for a few minutes, before he felt Makoto lean in slowly.

“Hey, Haru?” Makoto said slowly. Haru looked up. He met Makoto’s gaze, that overwhelmingly soft, gentle look that sent his heart beating erratically, with a hint of shyness in his smile as his face leaned in closer and closer, looking into Haru’s eyes to try convey something. Haru understood Makoto’s intent instantly and tipped his head upwards to meet Makoto’s. Then Makoto pressed his warm mouth against his and the room felt quieter than ever, the sound of Makoto’s breathing and the running dishwater sound all the louder against the silence.

It wasn’t a very long kiss, but when they broke it off Haru’s face felt as warm as Makoto’s looked, and Makoto’s smile turned shy and slightly embarrassed but pleased.

“It’s nice to see you, by the way.” He spoke softly.

“We saw each other a few days ago,” Haru said, even though he felt the exact same way.

“And we spoke yesterday. I know. It’s still nice. It’s always nice to see you. I miss seeing you ever day.”

“In that case,” Haru said slowly, using one hand to grab onto the front of Makoto’s borrowed apron, and the other to turn off the sink, “Let’s see as much of each other today as we can. To make up for that.”

“Yeah,” Makoto responded in that same, soft, quite tone, and then blinked. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Haru sighed. “What did I tell you?”

Makoto blinked again. “What?”

“See, this is why I don’t bother with innuendo when we have sex.”

“ _Oh_! So that’s what you—“ Makoto went from gasping in surprise and comprehension to ducking it as his face turned red. “m… meant…”

“Come on.” Haru grabbed Makoto by the front of his apron. “We’ll finish washing the dishes later. I can’t wait. Let’s do it.”

Makoto just barely managed to put the dish down before Haru pulled him by the apron back to the living room, on the one the largest empty spot he could find. “Wait, Haru, are we going to do it on the flo—wait, we need to close the windows so nobody will see us!”

Oh, right. “Yes.” Haru said, as response to both these statements. He let go of Makoto and went over to do just that. Then he went over to turn off the lights. Makoto let out a tiny shriek.

“Haru, what are you doing? It’s dark!”

“I know. It sure would be difficult to have sex without seeing what we’re doing it.”

“Then why did you—“

“I’m going to bring the lamp from my room.”

“But why won’t you just turn the lights back on?”

“Atmosphere.” Haru went into his bedroom and grabbed his lamp from there.

“Atmosphere?”

“Yes.” He came out with the lamp in one hand, a bottle of lube in the other, plugged it and put both on the table. “We need more fitting lighting for a sexy mood.” After turning it on, sure enough, the way it light up the room while still keeping it more than dark, yep, definitely what he needed.

Makoto covered his mouth, face red again. “ _OhmygodHaru,_ how do you just…” It came out muffled. It was also all very cute.

Haru walked over to him. He reached over to Makoto’s face and pressed a hand against his cheek. Slowly, Makoto removed the head covering his mouth and as Haru tipped his head upwards, leaned in, getting Haru’s signal. Haru pressed a quick, fairly chaste kiss to Makoto’s mouth that he hoped was comforting. “Come on, Makoto,” he whispered. “Let’s sit down.”

He looked around, seeking out a spot with enough space but also close enough to the table so they could see each other clearly, and Haru led Makoto around by the apron when he did.

The two of them sat down together. Haru started untying his apron and said, “You should take yours off, too.”

“Right.” As he untied his own, he asked, “Should we, um, take the rest of our clothes off?”

“We’re on a carpet.”

“True. Oh, is that why you told me to wear something comfortable?”

“That was one reason.”

“Wait, you mean you planned to do it on the floor all along?”

“I figured we probably would.”

“You figured?”

“I figured.” Haru threw his apron in the direction of the table, with Makoto doing the same to his own. “Do you want me to take the top tonight?”

Makoto looked flustered again. “S-sure.” In a somewhat awkward motion, he settled down on the carpet and lay on his back, looking stiff. Haru didn’t like to see Makoto so uncomfortable, so when he sat down in front of him, settling in between his thighs, the first thing he did was crawl over on top of Makoto, and leaned in close to his face.

“Makoto.” He whispered it as gently as he could, staring straight into Makoto’s eyes. Then he pressed his own forehead against Makoto, and cupped Makoto’s face in his hands, eyes closed. “Makoto.”

“Haru…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to instantly get comfortable with it. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. I just… this is the third time, and I’m still not really used to it… I kind of envy how shameless you are…”

“It’s okay. I’ll ease you into it. Don’t worry. Just take it slow.”

Makoto gave a tiny, sweet smile. “Are you sure your patience can handle that? You’re _really_ eager today.”

Haru huffed at him. “Don’t be a smartass.” Makoto smiled with a twinkle in his eye and then, entirely on impulse, Haru kissed him again. When he broke it off, Makoto was still smiling, calm, warm and content.

He cupped Makoto’s face in his hands again, and stared at him for a moment, and Makoto looked him back. They held each other’s gazes in silence for a moment there, staring into each other’s eyes, and Haru relished the sight of Makoto, the feeling of being with him like this, so peaceful, pleasant, close.

And then Haru just couldn’t continue to simply look at Makoto anymore. He got taken by this sudden insatiable urge to kiss him everywhere, on every single part of him, to simply shower him with affection and make Makoto continue to smile like that, to make him feel _so_ good, to make him let out such sounds that—and this is where his thoughts started to get inappropriate and Haru shut them by giving in to one urge and pressing a small kiss to Makoto’s forehead.

Makoto burst into the tiniest little giggle. It was so sudden and such a sweet sound that Haru’s urge intensified even further and then he just knew that he _had_ to do it, and he had to do it know. Haru started to leave smaller, lighter kisses on every spot he could find, on the tip of his nose, on his cheek, his jaw, his ear, all the little spots of skin in between, and on some places he’d leave a kiss twice. Every time he did Makoto would let out another giggle, each stronger than the last, some amplifying each other.

Feeling the corner of his mouth turn upwards, Haru broke off the kisses temporarily to comment, “What are you giggling about?”

“I-I don’t know!” Makoto, with an expression of pure bliss on his face that made Haru’s entire heart nearly burst out of his chest to see and know that he put it there, breathed out in between the giggling, “I just—“ Another, high pitched giggle, “I—it tickles a little, and… and for some reason I’m just suddenly feeling really happy…. actually,” Makoto gulped to regain his composure a bit, “What I want to know is, why are you suddenly so— so— you know, kissing me everywhere?”

Haru at that moment decided that he wants to hear that giggling again and resumed his previous onslaught. Makoto’s reaction did not disappoint, and it’s only when Makoto was busy enough giggling and red enough for Haru to feel less self-conscious about his own red face that he answered, “I’m just in that mood today.”

Then Haru moved down to Makoto’s neck and the kisses turned longer and deeper and Makoto’s giggling turned into small gasps, low and quiet and full of both surprise and increasing wonder.

“What kind of mood?” Makoto said, a low whisper this time.

“In a mood to spoil you a bit.” Haru said and heard the pout in his own voice.

“Spoil me?” There was a pause, and then Makoto laughed, a quiet, soft sound this time. “Oh, I _see_. I see what you mean. Thank you, Haru. ” There was a smile in Makoto’s tone that indicated he managed to run that through his mental Haru translator and the results were successful and accurate, as they nearly always were.

Troublesome and annoying as that so often was, Haru also found himself often thinking how it’s very convenient that Makoto can understand and interpret him so efficiently and with such is. Sometimes certain things can be too embarrassing to say, and sometimes embarrassing to even want to say or actually think, and Haru was very flustered right now about this awfully sappy thing he’s feeling as it is.

“But Haru.” Makoto added, a slightly troubled tone, “Please don’t neglect yourself to do this, okay? I want you to, um, have fun with this too. I appreciate that you want to do something good for me, but, um, what we’re doing, it’s supposed to be fun for us both, so—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I—“

“Look, you idiot, spoiling you _is_ half the fun for me.” Haru said, because sometimes you had to be blunt even when it embarrassed you in order for your (almost always sensitive but sometimes—and usually when it’s least convenient) thickheaded best friend who is also your boyfriend to get it.

“Haru…” Really, why does he sound so touched over every smallest thing Haru does for him, when Makoto always made it very clear he derived as much of his own pleasure out of Haru’s, did he honestly think Haru wouldn’t feel the same or is he just so easily affected by even the small things that even when something isn’t itself surprising or unexpected it still makes him no less happy? Probably the last one, really.

“Shut up,” Haru said, realizing that he was starting to get impatient, and gave Makoto a kiss on the mouth again to emphasize. Makoto laughed into it, or more like giggled again, really, and it was adorable but making Haru even more flustered so he kissed him harder, and Makoto returned the favor. Haru could feel Makoto’s pleased smile against his mouth as they kissed, and Haru slipped in a bit of tongue that squeezed out of Makoto a muffled yelp of surprise. Feeling the warmth of Makoto’s face turning red against his own, Haru thought, _Yeah, that’s what you get for getting smug on me._

When Haru pulled out, Makoto was smiling at him again, looking at one amused and miffed at being surprised like that, as if to say that he knew exactly what went through Haru’s mind when he did that. In fact, he probably did know. But Haru decided he liked surprising Makoto, as long as they were good surprises, so he went back to Makoto’s neck, where his weakness lie, and kissed again, then gave a long lick down the side of his neck that brought out that same pleased sigh. He found the one spot that he clearly remembered as being especially effective and began to suck on it, harder with each passing second, and the soft moan that he got in response then made a very pleasant feeling stir between his legs.

Makoto, Haru decided, had a very nice neck. He had a very nice everything, actually, and he wasn’t quite sure which part of Makoto was his favorite, because it was far too difficult to decide, but at that moment he really liked Makoto’s neck in particular. He didn’t even notice when he brought his other hand to gently caress the other side of it, as if to balance out what he was doing to it with his mouth.

”Mm… Haru…”

That same pleasant feeling stirs again, and Haru decided he wants to hear Makoto more. He took his mouth off Makoto’s and moved on to suck his jaw, then changed his mind and decided to go for Makoto’s earlobe, and was rewarded by a much louder moan this time.

“Haru! Don’t surprise me on purpose!”

“You’re louder when you’re surprised. I like to hear you.”

“…Oh, well…”

“Don’t keep your voice down.” Haru said, “please.”

Makoto sighed, but smiled. “For you, Haru…” his hand was traveling by Haru’s side, stroking him affectionately. Haru’s sat up, returning to his earlier position of sitting between Makoto’s thighs. Makoto looked up at him, and Haru knew he was taking in the sight of Haru just as he was doing the same to Makoto. Suddenly Haru felt really self-conscious.

“Hey, Haru, have I ever told you that you’re beautiful?”

 _Are you trying to make it even worse_? Makoto must be able to tell it’s only more embarrassing. He turned his head away and muttered. “You stole my line.”

“Oh, sorry, But I just wanted to tell you that.” When Haru turned back to look at him, Makoto was looking at him with affection. His hand reached out to Haru’s, and he held it in his, intertwining their fingers. Haru stared at Makoto again, his gaze panning down his warm neck, his torso, chest, stomach, and soon he replaced his gaze with his hand instead. He leaned in, the fingertips of his other hand tapping on Makoto’s fine collarbones, then trailing down his chest and lower. When they reached his stomach, he held on to Makoto’s shirt and look back at Makoto in question. Makoto nodded, so he lifted his shirt to expose Makoto’s stomach and abs, and began to press kisses there.

And then it came again, that absolutely charming and endearing giggle that only encouraged him to kiss Makoto more, more, in as many paces as he could find, and whatever place he wasn’t kissing he caressed and stroked with his free hand. He felt Makoto shifting beneath him and his belly quiver, and moved his mouth higher, moving his kisses towards the collarbones he was feeling earlier. He let go of Makoto’s hand so that both his hands could stroke where his mouth had been earlier, then he moves them to his sides, to his hips, then his inner thighs, and began to caress them. His hands moved slowly, steadily upwards, until they reach up Makoto’s crotch, and he hesitated for a moment, exchanged one glance with Makoto, and cupped it in his hands.

Makoto didn’t quite gasp, this time, when Haru took a firmer hold of it, and when Haru began to stroke him through the fabric, feeling Makoto’s stiffness through it; it was more of a low, pleased hum, a vibration. He pulled down Makoto’s pants, gave a few strokes, and then, finally, his underwear, exposing him, baring him to the warm air of his living room, and grabbed on to him.

Then Haru changed his mind. He opened his mouth and dipped his head slowly, just about to start to suck him off before Makoto said, “Wait. Haru.”

He looked at Makoto, who had sat up on his elbows. “Not today.” Haru nodded.

“Okay. Is it something I should know about?” Haru wanted for everything to be clear. He couldn’t think of any particular, important reason Makoto wouldn’t want him to blow him—the only reason he could think of was that he just didn’t feel like it—but if there was a reason, he wanted to know.

“It’s just, that, well, we won’t be able to kiss on the mouth after you do that. And I want to.”

Ah. Right. Easy to forget, and reality has a way of reminding you when you do. Haru nodded, and decided that his hand is good enough. He began to stroke him with one hand, starting out slow and steady, and then he went faster, from gentle to rough to gentle again, switching between different kinds of motions.

Makoto closed his eyes, tipping his head to the side. “Haru… mm, ah…”

“Look at me,” Haru whispered, surprised at how hoarse his own voice sounded, and Makoto did. Haru stared into Makoto’s eyes, murky and clouded, his expression hazy, like he could barely see, as Haru’s motions became rougher, harder, as he added another hand to double the strokes, and Makoto half-gasped and half-moaned in surprise, but still kept looking at him.

And Haru took in the sight of Makoto beneath him, the shiver running through his body, the way his chest and his belly moved in time with his breathes, the soft flush on his cheeks; the way he opened his legs further to give Haru more space, such an inviting, pliant, _open_ gesture. He took in the sound of Makoto’s breathing, the breathy moaning that would slip in between, growing louder with each second, the occasional swallow to contain himself, the way his throat moved when he did. And though it all he kept his eyes staring deep into Makoto’s own, and knew that Makoto was doing the same.

“Makoto,” he breathed, “Makoto. After this, I’d like to go inside you. Would you like me to?”

“Yes,” Makoto gasped, “Ah—yes, Haru, please, do that, mm, ahh…”

“I’m going to prepare you now, then. Alright?”

“Okay,” Makoto nodded, breathing heavily between every syllable, “Okay. Yes, that’s… that’s a good idea.”

Haru reached for the table with one hand, keeping the other on Makoto, his strokes a bit slower and gentler as his hand cast about for his lube bottle. When he does find it, he lets go of Makoto and concentrates on covering spreading it on his fingers—the ones he thinks he’s going to be using, anyway. Makoto spreads his legs, again, a little farther, and turned his head away in a gesture that really reminded Haru of himself.

“Is it embarrassing? Makoto, if you don’t want me to—“

“I do! It’s just… this part of the human body is very… um, exposing this is something else entirely, and I haven’t quite gotten used to it yet…”

“Try not to think about it too much.” Haru said and tried to make his tone sympathetic. Truth is, he could understand. It certainly seems convenient for this part of the human body to fulfill several such functions, and practically speaking, it is, but it often made things awkward when moments like this came. “Lie down on your back again.”

Makoto did as Haru asked, and Haru pulled him a bit closer, so that he could reach where he needed to with more ease. He pulled Makoto’s pants down to his knees, and wrapped Makoto’s legs around his waist. He pulled Makoto closer and closer, until he was within reach but not too close, and slowly, slowly, moved his hand where he needed to until he found Makoto’s entrance. Slowly, he slid in his index finger in and felt Makoto’s entire body jerk.

“Shh. Makoto. Try to relax.” Haru said, trying to sound reassuring, in a low whisper. “Makoto. Is this fine?”

“More than fine,” Makoto said with a gasp. “Haru, can you… keep saying my name? It’s… it’s really calming, hearing you say it…”

When he asked like that, and when hearing it made Haru feel all warm inside again, how could he not?

“Makoto.” Haru repeated it with every pump of his finger inside him. “Makoto. Makoto _. Makoto_ …”

“Mm…”

“Makoto.” It began to slide in more smoothly, almost close to the hilt. He slipped in another. “Makoto.”  Haru circled his fingers, scissored them in, all while watching Makoto’s face. He occupied himself with the thought of what he was going to do when he pulled out his fingers and properly slid in, and at some point, lost against his patience.

“You think you’re ready now?” Haru said in a voice that again surprised him with its breathlessness.

Makoto nodded, the motion in tune with his breath.

“Okay.” Haru pulled out his fingers, grabbed for the lube bottle again and pulled down his pants and underwear in one motion. He found himself unsurprisingly no less hard than Makoto was when he did, that made him hurry and all the more impatient as he coated himself in lube. Makoto watched him with a glint of zeal in his otherwise hazy eyes that Haru found encouraging. He gave himself a few strokes, then looked Makoto straight in the eye. Makoto gave him a sleepy, shy smile that was far too innocent for what they were doing, and nodded.

With Makoto lying on his back in front of Haru, legs lifted, and Haru sitting up between his thighs, Haru thrust into Makoto in one quick motion at which he let out a most wonderful sound. Surprised himself by the quickness of how he managed to slide in, Haru couldn’t hold back his own moan at the delightful feeling of burying himself so deep in Makoto, of Makoto feeling so soft and yet tight around him, of how he fit right in as if he was meant to be there. He began to push in repeatedly, his movements much slower, smoother, gentler, he eyes closing of their own accord and his moans slipping into his breaths before he could stop himself.

Haru could feel how Makoto was practically writhing underneath him, moving with such fervor, and hear him moaning so loudly and with such unrecognizable shamelessness, his voice slipping into Haru until he practically couldn’t tell which is which anymore. When he opened his eyes, Makoto lay with his back arched, torso shaking heavily and moving up with every deep breath, and he realized that he still wanted to kiss him. To keep kissing him. He wanted more than that, too. He wanted—

“Makoto, tell me something.” Haru said, voice quieter then he intended to, and really, what is it with his lack of control over his own voice today? “If I told you when to come, could you?”

Makoto looked at him once, blinked, then nodded.

“Do you want me to? To tell you when to come?” Haru asked again, because that’s an altogether different matter.

“ _Yes_ ,” Makoto groaned out desperately, “Yes. I trust you, Haru.”

 _You don’t have to tell me that, stupid, I know_ , Haru managed to think through his haze. He leaned in closer and kissed Makoto on the mouth, and whispered, “Then hold on to me.” He wanted to hold him, to show Makoto he can rely on him too. He wrapped his arms around Makoto’s chest, feeling the muscles of his back with his palms, and felt Makoto wrap his arms around him back, just as he felt Makoto’s legs wrap around his waist. Together, they moved upwards, and both of them were now sitting up, Makoto whimpering into the room’s warm air and Haru burying his face deep into Makoto’s shoulder.

“Shh.” Haru whispered soothingly, breathing against him. “Makoto.” He wanted to say his name more, he decided. To say Makoto’s name as loud as he can. All the more so if Makoto liked it when Haru said it. To think it in his thoughts and to think of Makoto is suddenly not enough. He needed to say it, to hear Makoto hear him, as if to acknowledge it, consciously, to remind him of this amazing thing fact, that Makoto is here, here, with him, next to him, that—“Makoto. Makoto. Makoto…” He thrust and moved and grabbed and fondled Makoto from behind to push himself in even further, and Makoto moaned loudly again and—

—And Haru was suddenly so very very conscious of the way he can feel him, his physical presence, with such intensity, so conscious of how he Makoto felt around him and how it felt to be inside him, of the press of their skin and bodies against one another’s, of Makoto’s legs wrapped around Haru’s waist as if holding on to him for dear life, of their closeness, and this sheer, sudden realization that Makoto is here, physically here, and so close, suddenly floods him, as if delayed. And a warmth spreads through Haru’s entire body that feels entirely separate from his arousal.

“Makoto.” He breathed, and the words spilled out of him before he was even thinking what he was saying. “Makoto, I’m so happy to see you. I’m so happy you’re here. Makoto. Let’s be together, always. You know Makoto, I love saying your name too, I love hearing you say my name, Makoto, I love— I love—“ The words were so embarrassing to say that they rose up only to get stuck in his throat, but even this was probably more than he could normally manage to say. So he muffled them by kissing Makoto every place he could find, on the shoulder, on the throat, on the neck, and wished he could reach over and kiss him on the back but settled for instead reaching under Makoto’s shirt it and feeling every spot he could find with his hands, rubbing with his palms and tapping it with his fingers, distantly thinking, _god, those back muscles really are a charm point_.

At some point, Haru had realized that the noises Makoto was making have slipped into absolutely elated laughter, and it was such a wonderful sound that he didn’t even try to stop the smile from spreading through him. He moved a little so he could see Makoto’s face, and finds that Makoto has thrown his head back, and he was laughing and moaning at once like all the noises he could possibly make were all mixed together into one and Haru couldn’t even tell which is which anymore but what he did know is that Makoto looked beautiful and happy and how much he wanted to look at his face again so he grabbed the back of Makoto’s head and pushed it downwards and kissed him on the mouth, that same long, slow kiss he liked best. But really, the kiss was just an excuse, because what he really wanted was just to stare at Makoto’s face again, to look into his beautiful eyes and his beautiful smile and if he could he would look at it forever.

Makoto wrapped his arms around him even tighter, bringing Haru closer. Haru brought his forehead to Makoto’s and nuzzled his head against his, eyes closed, and Makoto sighed, peaceful, content. When they opened their eyes again, Haru reached back to between Makoto’s legs, wrapped his hand around him, and began to delicately stroke, preparing them both, and they locked eyes again. Haru, rocking into Makoto, looked right into the very depths of Makoto’s eyes, and said,

“Why don’t you come for me now, Makoto,” in a soft, throaty whisper.

Makoto threw his head back and yelled out Haru’s name as he came right into his hand, and Haru thrust right after and felt his entire body go numb and his head dizzy and he groaned out as he felt himself fill Makoto up. Makoto sighed and gasped at the sensation and called out Haru’s name again and they stayed like this for a moment that felt like forever and before he knew it, Haru’s entire body felt wrecked with exhaustion. He pulled out of Makoto, who nearly topped to the floor, supporting himself by leaning on both his hands, and both of them sat down on the floor to recover, panting heavily.

Eventually, Haru just allowed himself to fall on his back with a sigh. He was at once tired and yet felt oddly refreshed. He looked over at Makoto, who looked even more tried than he did, and who sighed, “We should probably get cleaned up, huh?”

“I don’t really feel like it,” Haru said, in spite of the stickiness in his hand.

“Neither do I,” Makoto admitted with another sigh. “But we should, anyway. Ugh… what hour is it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Haru, we need to get up early tomorrow. Let’s take a bath and go to sleep.” Makoto stood up, legs a bit shaky. “Ugh, I think we might have ruined my new underwear… and my clothes…”

“We only wear these at home, anyway. If you want, we could make them our ‘have-sex-in’ clothes.”

“Haru! I would really rather we don’t have these kinds of clothes at all!”

“Well, we’re going to have sex in our clothes at least _once_ more in the future.”

“Yeah, but to have clothes _specifically_ meant to—to do it in—“ Makoto groaned in frustration and shook his head. “Come on. I’ll start the bath.”

“Do you want to go in together?”

Makoto paused, stared at Haru, and reddened, which is impressive considering they just had sex. How Makoto managed to say the most embarrassingly mushy things so shamelessly and with an entirely straight face but got so embarrassed about any sort of sex-related subject, Haru would never know. Then again, it was sort of the exact reverse for Haru.

“S-sure. It would take a bit less time then, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. I’ll go take care of our sleeping arrangements, then.”

“’Our’? Won’t you be sleeping on your bed? What’s there to take care of?”

“I have a futon that’s big enough for us both.” Haru turned away and headed for the bedroom because now _he_ was starting to feel the blush spread to his cheeks.

—

As it turned out, the bath only barely managed to have enough space for them both, but Haru decided he didn’t mind. He slumped against Makoto for several minutes and they washed each other’s backs before they took care of themselves, and then for a while they just sat in the bath together, peacefully. The entire room felt warm and damp and Haru felt like he could close his eyes and just fall asleep in the bath right then and there with Makoto right behind him, holding him. From the way he felt Makoto’s head slump against his, it seemed Makoto felt the same.

“Come on, Haru…” Makoto said in a drowsy voice, his hand playing in Haru’s wet, recently washed, hair, “Don’t fall asleep here…. we have to…”

Haru snorted, “Look who’s talking.”

“Aha, sorry, But these past few days were really exhausting. I needed this break.”

“Mm. Me too.”

“Although this break was pretty exhausting too…”

“Yeah. Oh well. It was worth it.”

“Oh, by the way, Haru,” Makoto said, in a sly tone that couldn’t have meant _anything_ good, “I heard what you said to me. Then. I still remember it.”

Haru felt himself stiffen against him. Makoto laughed. “Thank you. I know you were to embarrassed to finish what you were going to say, but that was very sweet. And by the way,” Makoto wrapped his arms around him, “I love you too.”

“ _Ugh._ ” Haru’s audible groan made Makoto laugh harder. “Just… don’t expect me to say that kind of stuff when I’m fully conscious and clear-headed.”

“Oh, but you do say that when you’re fully conscious and clear-headed. You just don’t use the same words.”

The most annoying part was, Makoto’s entirely right, and once again it’s kind of both very convenient and annoying how he catches in to and perfectly understands these things Haru does without any effort whatsoever.

"I bet you think it's both very convenient and very annoying, how I can see right through you so easily, huh? It's very conveniently, how you're able to say these things without actually saying them, but on the other hand, you also can't pretend you're not actually sweet, right?" _What does that idiot sound so smug about? Geez._

Haru elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up." Makoto laughed again.

Makoto dragged him out the bath eventually, insisting that it’s probably way past their bedtime by now and they need to get enough sleep by tomorrow. Haru let Makoto pull him out and drag him to the bedroom, but Makoto made it very firmly clear that he wasn’t going to dress Haru to bed for him. Makoto scrambled around, trying to chose what to wear for sleep, until Haru threw a few of his unpacked and yet to be worn shirts at Makoto’s direction. By then he was already comfortably snuggled up in his futon, just waiting for Makoto.

Getting to sleep in the same bed as Makoto was easily one of the best experiences in Haru’s life. Not at the top of his list, perhaps; that throne belonged to being in water, but it easily held a very high position, and would have been higher if other experiences that involved being with Makoto weren’t even higher. Sleeping in the same bed as Makoto, or futon in this case, was like having a double bed in your own bed, except not as uncomfortable as that sounded. He was huge and vast and soft and _warm_ and sometimes he clung to Haru from behind as he slept, or sometimes Haru would snuggled up to him and rest his head against his chest, and Makoto would wrap around him and envelop him in all that wonderful softness and warmth and the scent of him.

Tonight, Haru decided he wanted to do the second one, so with one glare at Makoto not to say a word, he huddled up as close to Makoto as possible and let him cover both of them with the blanket. The buried his head into Makoto’s chest, closed his eyes and when Makoto wrapped his arms around Haru, gripping him tight, Haru blocked out all sounds, all thoughts, all ideas that didn’t have to do with Makoto. One ear pressed to Makoto’s chest, Haru listened to the steady beating of Makoto’s heart, a steady, calming rhythm, the softer sound of both their synchronized breathing.

And he felt at home. Yes, in the end, he realized, it didn’t matter, any longer, where he was physically. Whether his home back in Iwatobi, or this apartment in Tokyo, when Makoto was there, and he could fall asleep with him, listening to his beating heart like this, he was home.


End file.
